The Demon Hairdresser of Wawanakwa
by SideshowJazz1
Summary: AU, based on the musical "Sweeney Todd". 15 years ago, hair salon expert Mike was deported for a crime he didn't commit. Now, Mal has come back to town to find his wife and daughter gone, and an unsuccessful bakery below his old apartment. With the help of the owner, and some razors, he might be able to rebuild his life...and also avenge himself...rated T for blood and gore.
1. Prologue

**A/N: So if you've been reading my story "Coma Barbie", you may have known I was planning to do this. Last September, the New Zealand Opera performed the 1979 musical "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street", the black comedy set in Victorian London about a barber who mutilates his clients, while his neighbour uses their flesh as filling for her pies, which go from being the worst in the city to the best. And I started thinking about Total Drama. So I decided to do my own version, a bit modernised of course, and with the backstory more pronounced.**

 **Plot: A young barber is arrested and deported for a crime he didn't commit. When a friendly younger sailor brings him back to his town several years later, he assumes a new identity and a name to match his pessimistic views. He joins forces with a quiet baker, and proceeds to plan revenge on the judge who sentenced him and his accomplices, as well as formulate a way to reunite with his daughter...oh, yeah, also, pairings are Zoke, Gidgette, possible Camlett (Scaron?) and Marlett. Oh, and some very one-sided Alebridge.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing from Total Drama – that goes to Fresh TV. I own nothing from "Sweeney Todd" - that goes to Stephen Sondheim and whoever wrote the original 1850 serial "A String Of Pearls" that inspired the musical.**

 **For the record, you do not have to have seen the musical or Tim Burton's 2007 movie adaptation to read this, especially the twist.**

 **Now enjoy!**

"She's so... _beautiful..."_

Mike thought that when he lifted his wife's veil and kissed her in front of the church, he would never be happier. But looking down at the baby girl, _his_ baby, sleeping in Zoey's arms was just about the only thing that could top it. He and Zoey had only been married for a year, and they were still young – only twenty. But they'd known since they'd met at sixteen, that they belonged together.

"She's very pretty." Zoey agreed. She was still exhausted from childbirth, but not enough that she couldn't smile up at her husband. "I can see where she got her looks from."

Mike laughed. "You're teasing. She's probably going to grow up to look just like you."

Zoey giggled, but didn't argue further. "What should we call her?" she wondered out loud. "I thought of so many names, but none of them seem right. I want her name to be unusual – unique, like her – but I don't want her to get teased."

Mike paused, thinking. "What about a name that sounds everyday, but with an unusual twist?" he suggested.

Zoey gave a gasp. "I know! The name just came to me. What do you think of the name 'Bridgette'? You know, with an _ette_ instead of an _et_ , like in French?"

As they spoke, the little girl opened her eyes, blinking at her parents.

Mike smiled back at Zoey. "I think it's perfect." He reached out to cradle the little girl, all while letting Zoey keep hold of her. "I promise, we will always be there for you, Bridgette."

And for two years, Mike was able to keep his promise. Bridgette grew into a sweet-natured toddler, her originally baby blue eyes turning a light green, with thick fair hair fast growing, very like Zoey's before she had dyed it blood red.

Life seemed perfect. They only had a small flat, but it was enough for everyone. Mike also worked at a hair salon, and most people said he was the best. It wasn't just that he was able to follow the clients' instructions to the letter, whether it was their facial hair or head hair. It was his friendly attitude. He could spend as long as he had to chatting away to the customers, and they enjoyed having something to focus on during such a tedious task of having their hair done.

Zoey, meanwhile, had to stay home and look after Bridgette, but she didn't mind Mike earning the money. She was simply proud of him, and claimed that she didn't mind being a housewife, because domestic chores was something she was actually good at (she especially came into her own when sewing, making most of her and Bridgette's clothes from scratch when she had spare time, which increased as her daughter got older).

During the evenings when they were all home, the small family was never happier. Their idyllic life was perfect.

Maybe that's why it had to end so suddenly.

On a night like any other, there came a knock on the door. Zoey answered, and was surprised to find two policewomen on the doorstep.

"Good evening." said the African-Canadian woman. "Is your husband in?"

"Yes." Zoey said uneasily. "What's happened?"

"We're not exactly sure yet." the woman said. "We've just been asked to take him into custody."

But as it was clear, Mike had no idea what he was being accused of either. Even his trial, which took place a week later, didn't make it clear. Nevertheless, the jury, headed by a man named Scott, declared Mike guilty of whatever it was.

"I sentence you to a lifetime exile in the Australian deserts." the Judge, a man barely older than Mike by the name of Alejandro Burromuerto, said. "Case dismissed."

Zoey never even got a chance to say goodbye. The last glimpse they ever got of each other was in that courtroom. As Mike was led away, he managed to turn just enough to see Zoey in the gallery and call "Tell Bridgette about me! Don't let her forget! I love you!"

Zoey could only cry as she mouthed the same three words to him. She'd known the jury had been unfair and unreasonable. But there was nothing she could do about it.

As she stood there, she suddenly heard a voice beside her. "This is going to lead to terrible things..."

Zoey looked over to see another woman, possibly younger than her with fair hair and pale eyes, looking scared and shaken.

"What kind of things?" the redhead asked.

The blonde glanced up at her. "I can only see a few things. A girl locked in a tower...a macabre bakery in ways too horrifying to explain...and I can see blood. The future is full of blood and death."

Zoey slowly backed away from the girl, not sure if what she was saying was truly what she thought was going to happen.

"I have one more word of advice for you." the girl suddenly said, making eye contact with Zoey. "Be careful of who you trust."

Outside the courtroom, a member of the jury was waiting outside. The man named Scott, who had claimed Mike guilty. But he gave Zoey a sympathetic look as she left the courtroom. "Rough day?" he asked. "Seeing your husband get carted off. I'm sorry, but justice had to be served."

"I still don't understand it..." Zoey murmured. She still believed in Mike's innocence, and she always would, no matter what.

"Tell you what." Scott said, a rather sly smile on his face. "You seem like you need something to take your mind off it. Would you like to accompany me to a gathering this evening?"

Zoey gave him a suspicious look, and he quickly added "No strings attached. You don't have to stay for long if you don't have fun."

"Well..." Zoey said slowly, "I suppose I could leave Bridgette with a babysitter for a couple of hours..."

And that's when her fate was sealed.

 **Yeah, I'm starting this way before the story began. I don't think the story ever mentioned what the conviction was. Obviously, making this story modern means that Mike is a hairdresser – but it doesn't mean he doesn't have access to some kind of razors. Also, yes, Scott is Beadle Bamford, and Alejandro is Judge Turpin. And yes, I made Bridgette Mike and Zoey's daughter. Any guesses about who the rest of the characters will be? Oh yes...one more thing. Mike does not have MPD in this story. Instead, his personalities come into play differently...**


	2. Chapter 1: No Place Like Wawanakwa

**Okay, so let's start the true story...thanks for reviewing, Bloodylilcorpse, QueenOfChocolateWinx, What'dIMiss and yeezynight14.**

 _FIFTEEN YEARS LATER:_

A familiar man looked out at his old home from the ship.

"Ah, Wawanakwa." He heard the voice coming from the man beside him, a younger idealistic blonde guy. "No matter how much I see during my travels, I always miss my home island. There's no place like it."

"Yes, there sure isn't." murmured the older man, in a deeper voice than the one he'd had when he'd last been there. Similarly, he had changed. Now, instead of his hair sticking upright, he slicked it down with gel, and it covered one of his eyes, both of which showed his insomnia, brought on by years of nightmares.

"Mal, dude?" The guy looked at him with concern. "You alright there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Geoff." The Malevolent one, the only thing that remained of the skilled friendly hairdresser, replied. "Just have some memories associated with my home that aren't so wonderful. Thanks for rescuing me up in Australia, by the way."

"Hey, no worries!" Geoff said cheerfully as the boat docked. "I suppose this is where we go our separate ways." He grinned. "Maybe I'll run into you in the city sometime!"

Mal smiled humourlessly. He couldn't help thinking how naive the young sailor was.

As he left, a woman who was in her mid-thirties walked past, her face half-hidden by her hood. At the last minute, she turned and looked at Mal. "Do I know you from somewhere?" she said.

Mal didn't recognize anything about her, so he answered shortly "No."

"Oh." the woman said blankly. Then she paused, before adding "Well, anyway, you look like a man who could use a woman for a night. I don't cost much, so-"

Mal walked straight past her, ignoring her plea for employment. Prostitutes disgusted him, especially when he thought of the sweet, virtuous wife he once had. But he thought nothing more of it as he hailed a taxi, and even after all this time, remembered the address.

However, the building he was dropped off at was not the one he remembered. It was run-down, dark, almost like a ghost flat. There was still the outdoor spiral staircase he remembered that led up to the little flat he'd shared with Zoey and Bridgette, but he could tell no one had lived there in quite some time. Even if it didn't have the _For Rent_ sign hanging in the dusty window of the second story.

The downstairs, which had originally been another flat, now had a sign hanging over it: _Bakery Of Savouries._ So Mal shrugged, and entered. The woman at the counter was around his age, possibly a few years younger, but her prim and proper bun, little round glasses, and neat, plain blouse and skirt made her look older.

Her green eyes lit up when Mal entered. "Hello." she said politely. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you own the upstairs flat?" Mal asked straight out.

The girl scowled for a moment, but quickly straightened her face. "Yes, I do, but I don't live in it." she admitted. "I own this whole building. Look, I'll get to the point. Did you come in here to buy anything from my bakery?"

"Wasn't planning on it." Mal deadpanned. "I just wanted to rent the room."

Suddenly, the girl sighed. "I suppose I can't blame you." she admitted. "My sausage rolls and pies are probably the worst this side of the globe. The pastry's all right, but I can't afford the meat, and no one seems to like the tofu rolls I've done. It's either tofu rolls that no one will eat, or pies with nothing but fat."

Mal shrugged. "Maybe you'll be able to afford it once you become my landlady. Can I rent the room?"

The girl smiled slightly. "No one's wanted to rent that room for a while. People say it's haunted. Ever since the girl above moved out, about fourteen years ago."

Mal looked up at that. "This girl – did you know her?"

"I met her when I bought the place off her old landlord." the girl said. "She wasn't up there for long, though. Zoey, her name was. Pretty girl, but the poor thing was so naive. She lived up there with her husband and little girl for a while. But then the husband was hauled off on unclear charges – personally I think the jury had something against him and that he was probably innocent. I'd been to the salon he worked at, and that man wouldn't have harmed anyone."

"What happened to her?" Mal asked, the concern in his voice making him sound conflicted, as if his voice was never meant to show concern.

"After the trial, she was heartbroken. A man of the jury, Scott, he was called – he invited her to what he said was a gathering. It was at Judge Burromuerto's house, though. He hadn't mentioned what they were planning to do. Poor Zoey. When she finally returned back here the next morning, I heard, her dress was torn, she was bleeding and she had clearly been the victim of a gang rape. But because the judge was a man of the law, she couldn't accuse him."

"And what happened to her?" Mal asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Just after I bought the place, she poisoned herself." the girl answered matter-of-factly. "Arsenic."

"And her daughter?"

"The judge took her in. He's raised her as his own daughter."

The expression on Mal's face when he didn't answer straightaway told her everything. "I know! That's you, isn't it? You were Zoey's husband?"

"And now she's gone..." Mal whispered. He shook his head. "I'm not the same person I was, then." he said. "I need a new name, anyway. You can call me Mal."

The girl held out her hand and shook his. "I'm Scarlett." she said. "The rent's due at the end of each month."

A dark smirk appeared on Mal's face as he shook hands with her. He had a feeling that she was going to prove to be a very interesting landlady.

 **Yeah, I felt like a shop that only sold pies was a bit unrealistic for today, so I made it a full-fledged bakery that only sold savouries. And...well...no offence to anyone who does like tofu, but I can't see it going with pies or sausage rolls. Also, I thought street prostitute was kind of an upgrade from beggar woman, but not by much – after all, she does offer her body up near the start of the musical. Also, Mike now being Mal...he needed a new identity, just as he did in the show.**


	3. Chapter 2: I'll Find You, Bridgette

**Okay, okay...guess it's time for our two blondes to meet. And yes, Bridgette does sing the song from the musical. Why not? Thanks for reviewing, What'dIMiss, yeezynight14, QueenOfChocolateWinx and Bloodylilcorpse.**

Up in a grand house, a young girl sat at her window forlornly. She felt like she was never allowed to go out, except to school, and it was the start of summer. Her guardian never let her out on her own, and recently, she'd caught him looking at her differently. It wasn't that he was repungant or anything – in fact, he was gorgeous for his age – but he had raised her, and he was far too old for her.

Bridgette gave another sigh as she looked out of her window. She longed to go out and see her friends from school (although Courtney had chosen to do a summer course to start her on her path to law school, but Gwen and Leshawna were still available to hang with). But she wasn't allowed to. She had to admit that being raised by a judge like Alejandro wasn't exactly the worst thing a girl who knew nothing about her birth parents could have. But she still didn't understand why he didn't want her to leave the house much. She knew perfectly well what he was thinking when he looked at her in that particular way, but pretended to be clueless so that she didn't have to face it. It wasn't as if he acted as if he wanted her to know it – in fact, if it wasn't for that expression, she would have been truly ignorant of it.

As Bridgette looked out the window, she began singing to herself, remembering a song from a movie she'd seen that reminded her of this situation. _"Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,_

 _How is it you sing?_

 _How can you jubilate, sitting in cages, never taking wing..."_ She didn't notice how her voice, at first soft, began to soar as her loneliness and resentment at being kept away from the rest of the world came out in full force. That's how it happened.

As luck would have it, a young man was walking past her house at that moment. He looked up in shock when he heard a beautiful but half-angry, half-mournful voice singing above " _Whence comes this melody, constantly flowing..."_

Geoff had dated a few girls in high school, but none since he'd been sailing the world. He hadn't exactly believed in love at first sight, but the moment he saw the singer, he was rooted to the spot.

She reminded him of Rapunzel, with her blonde ponytail being blown back by the breeze, and her wide, open-book eyes. And that expression – so wistful. It touched his compassionate heart.

At that moment, a woman passed, but she paused at the house, too, staring up at the girl. For a moment, the girl looked at Geoff, her eyes locking onto his. They just stared, for a moment, connecting. Then the girl cast a nervous look at the woman and left the window.

Geoff stepped towards the woman. "Please...can you tell me. The girl up there...do you know her?"

The woman managed a sweet smile, although she looked miserable in every other way. "Her name is Bridgette. This is Judge Burromuerto's home, and he adopted her. But she's not allowed out much. If you'll excuse me, I booked a client..." Then she left, hurrying on her way somewhere.

Unfortunately, Geoff stayed staring up at Bridgette's window for too long. Long enough for him to be caught. He saw the judge himself come to the window. Just as Bridgette had, he saw Geoff. He didn't do anything, just gave him a hard stare and slammed the window shut, but the message was clear.

Oh, it couldn't have been clearer. Another passer-by turned and addressed Geoff. "Well, you must have been doing something wrong. Were you staring at his daughter?"

Geoff held up his hands in defense. "I just saw her. What's it to you? I don't think I was doing anything wrong."

"Look, I'm gonna be fair here." the man with the flame-coloured hair said. "Him or me catch you staring at his daughter again, and-" he stamped on Geoff's foot as hard as possible, making the man grit his teeth in order not to show pain. "That'll be your neck. And possibly your head, with pretty little scraps of brain spilling out onto the pavement – that is, if you have a brain, which I'm starting to doubt."

Geoff knew it wasn't going to be easy to get in contact with Bridgette, but something about her made him want to try. He didn't hang around outside the house for any longer, though. No, instead he made sure of the address, and then returned to the place he stayed in when he wasn't traveling the world.

Then he picked up his pen, and began to write:

 _Dear Bridgette,_

 _Before you start asking how I know you, since you don't know me, I should explain. I was outside your house, and heard you singing – I'm not sure if you'll remember me – I have blonde hair and blue eyes, and you were at your window at the time. A local seemed to know me, and she told me your name. I've been warned not to be caught around your house again, but I would like to get to know you. Even if you don't want to meet me in person, could you please send me a letter back? My address is below._

 _Geoff_

It wasn't the prettiest letter in the world, but it got across what Geoff wanted to say. He was no wordsmith, after all. "In fact," he reflected out loud, "Maybe it's a good thing if Bridgette only wants to communicate as a pen pal. At least I won't screw up and say something stupid on paper."

He didn't consider that maybe Bridgette's guardian would read her mail. After all, usually a seventeen-year-old girl would be allowed to read her own mail first. But then, most seventeen-year-old girls hadn't been adopted by men who secretly lusted after them and therefore kept them separate from the world. It would only be luck, if Bridgette got to the letter first.

But Geoff didn't know that. He whistled the tune he'd heard her singing as he posted the letter, only hoping desperately that he would get a reply.

 **Don't worry, Geoff, you're one of the few people in this story that have the chance of getting a happy ending. Truth be told, I'm considering exploring some alternate moments near the end of the story (it involves Bridgette, all I'm gonna say), but for now, Geoff is the luckiest member of this cast.**


	4. Chapter 3:McLean's Miraculous Mane-Maker

**All right, I guess it's time for Mal to prove that his talent with hair has not gone with his personality. Thanks for reviewing, Bloodylilcorpse, QueenOfChocolateWinx and What'dIMiss.**

Back in the nineteenth century, miracle potions were sold, except that they were mostly just snake oil and things like that. In the twenty-first century, though, when hair care potions were sold, some of them worked, and most were sold by the best hair salons in town. That's why, when McClean's Miraculous Mane-Maker was being promoted on the streets, Mal saw it as an opportunity to show off his skills by challenging this guy, who ran the best salon in town. Mal, of course, only had his flat to work with, but he knew customers preferred a friendly atmosphere with a skilled worker, not a swish atmosphere with no substance. And he could do that. He may not have been Mike anymore, but he knew how to act.

Scarlett came along, too. "I must admit, I'm curious to know what kind of ingredients go into a hair-growing potion." she said, a touch of pink coming to her face, as if she was embarrassed that she was interested in such things.

The promotion was done in a marquee, with a stage, half hidden by curtains. But before the creator stepped out, a small skinny boy that looked about twelve began to introduce the product.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began in a voice that made it clear he was a few years older than he looked, maybe fourteen or fifteen, "Prepare to marvel at the miracle of the Mane-Maker!"

However, no one seemed to be listening until he said the last couple of words. His voice was weak and scratchy, and his unassuming presence didn't help much, either.

"You see," the boy said, gesturing to the curly mop of hair he sported (similar to a young Michael Jackson), "I didn't always have hair like this. Only a few months ago, I had sparse thinning hair, as if I was an old man. But after I used McLean's Miraculous Mane-Maker, it proved that it was truly miraculous. Sometimes, I even get complimented. But I owe it all to this! That's why I am so pleased to give out these free samples!"

Soon, almost everyone held tiny bottles of the Mane-Maker. Mal opened his sample, inspecting the contents carefully. Scarlett read the ingredients, her expression becoming surprised, then amused.

"Somehow, I'm not sure that the boy up there got his hair from using this." she whispered to Mal.

"I know hair care mixtures, and this is clearly not one of them. No one will be able to grow more hair with it." Mal agreed, not bothering to lower his voice. "This is clearly the equivalent to snake oil."

At that moment, the curtain behind the young boy was pushed aside to reveal another man. "Excuse me?" He had obviously heard Mal's comment and was scowling.

"You heard me." Mal said in a casual voice. "You're conning people. I assume you're the McLean who created this?"

The man gave a nod, his face sort of pouty, like he was a child who'd just been scolded. "Yeah, that's me, but I like people to call me Chris. And my Mane-Maker is _not_ a con! Who are you to accuse me?"

Mal raised an eyebrow. "Only a man from the other side of the world, who happens to know a thing or two about hair care."

Chris was trying hard to keep his temper in check. "Is that so? How about we put that to the test? We'll need two volunteers, and we'll see who can more accurately give them what they want."

Mal smiled darkly at this. It would be the perfect way to establish his reputation. "What a good idea!" He stepped onto the stage. "May we have two volunteers?" he called out to the audience. "A free trim, anyone?"

The volunteers were both men. They only wanted simple trims and their sideburns to be neatened up, which was perfect. It meant that it would be easier to see which man was the superior hairdresser. But apart from that, they needed a judge. And who should offer but Scott, the same man who'd headed the jury all those years ago. Mal recognized him instantly, but made sure not to let his true feelings show on his face. If anyone recognized him, he was done for.

Mal carefully watched Chris as the contest began, assessing his skill. He tried to make himself look a little worried, but on the inside, he knew there was nothing to worry about. _"This guy's skill is a joke! I could do better than him in one minute!"_

Mal only sped into action after Chris had been working for about ten minutes. He not only got his volunteers' hair – facial and head – finished before Chris was done, but the overall result was much better.

Scott agreed too. He grinned at Mal, genuinely impressed. "Well, I can tell you that I'll definitely pay a visit to your establishment sometime. Probably around this week. Er...where _are_ you set up?"

"I'll be sending out flyers soon." Mal told him. "I'm just above Bakery of Savouries, if you know where that is."

"Oh yes." Scott nodded, as the crowd dispersed and everyone went on their way.

Scarlett's expression was neutral as she and Mal left, but as they walked, she spoke. "So, I suppose your revenge has begun?"

Mal smirked, nodding. "It has. And the first person that's going to pay is Scott, that foreman of the jury that convicted me of God-knows-what. Well, actually, God probably doesn't know since I don't think even the judge knew what he was accusing me of."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So even you don't know what you supposedly did?"

Mal just gave a shrug. "Never worked it out. To be fair, the only thing I remember from that day is seeing Zoey for the last time." His voice became softer for a moment, as he remembered her.

Scarlett stayed silent, knowing that there was no point in saying anything. There wasn't really anything she could say to that.

 **Phew! That took a while to write! I'm dying to get back to Gidgette, anyway.**


	5. Chapter 4: Mea Culpa (Not Hers)

**Here we are! I'm glad to write it! Thanks for reviewing, What'dIMiss, yeezynight14 and Bloodylilcorpse.**

Three days had passed since Geoff posted his letter. The good news? Judge Burromuerto hadn't had him hauled off on false charges, or for harrassing his adopted daughter. The bad news? Bridgette hadn't yet answered.

But that same day, he finally got an answer. The envelope had just his first name in neat, small handwriting. He tore into the letter eagerly, desperate to devour the message.

 _Dear Geoff,_

 _I do vaguely remember seeing you...I guess it would be a few days ago when you get this. You're lucky I managed to get to the post this morning first...I'm not really supposed to communicate with many people except at school. I usually have to stay up in my room, but I'm often alone at home._

 _A local knows me? I'm not sure how, as there are very few people who know who I am, but whoever it was clearly does. It might not be wise for us to meet in person, as my guardian is extremely overprotective. But I'm sending this to say that if you want to keep writing, you have to be careful about it. If you get caught around my house again, the law will not be on your side._

 _If you get this letter, write back, but be brief. Thank you for noticing me._

 _Bridgette._

It was a short, wary letter, but at least she'd written. Geoff wrote back immediately.

 _Dear Bridgette_

 _Thank you so much for writing back. I know it's probably hard to talk to someone you don't even know. I realize I can't tell you too much about myself, as I don't want your guardian to know who I am. Have you kept my first letter? I don't want to risk putting my address on this one, too._

 _Is there a way we can talk, no holds barred? I will wait for your reply._

 _Geoff._

As for Bridgette herself, she read this letter up in her room very quickly the evening it came. It was a Thursday night, and her jade eyes sped across the page, desperate for the little social interaction that she was usually starved of.

Of course she'd kept Geoff's first letter. She was just so amazed (and sort of relieved) that someone would finally notice her.

A knock sounded on her door. "Bridgette? May I come in?"

Bridgette quickly shoved the letter in the drawer on her bedside table and said "Of course." She didn't want to think about what would happen if the letters were found. Most likely cameras would be installed in her room, with bars across her window and her door locked 24-7. Yeah, that wasn't exactly normal, but being forced to play Rapunzel wasn't, either, so she wouldn't rule out those possibilities if she was ever found to be communicating with a man she barely knew.

The door opened to reveal Alejandro. He'd taken off his judge outfit and was in casual clothes, but Bridgette could still tell by the gleam in his eyes that he'd had a pretty successful day sentencing people. But she spoke anyway. "How was your day?"

"Tiring." Her guardian replied, although he didn't really look at all tired. "So many cases in one day...it's a good thing the next hearing isn't until Monday." He paused, closing the door. "Anyway, there was something I wanted to speak to you about. Have you given any thought to your future?"

Bridgette paused, thinking about it. Finally, she said "My friend Courtney asked me the same thing during the last week of school. I've thought about going into something like...I don't know, maybe nursing? I have the credidentials to get into university, although I was thinking about taking a gap year first, to travel, since I haven't really been anywhere and I've been saving for the last few years..."

This was clearly not the answer Alejandro was hoping for. His eye twitched, a sign that he was ever-so-slightly irritated. "Well," he said, his voice still level, "I've thought about it a lot during the past few months. Your future is as important to me as it is to you. You're right about university. I think you'd do well there."

But despite the words, the situation wasn't Bridgette's hopes for her future at all. Her concerns of the last year – the caged feeling, the isolation – weren't going to disappear if she didn't leave for a while, and as Alejandro continued to speak, she realized that if he had his way, she'd still be living there and starting at a local uni after this summer.

But that wasn't the worst part. Bridgette didn't even want to think about it. The minute she was alone, she penned a very short letter.

 _Dear Geoff,_

 _Can you come to the house and stand directly below my window at 3am this Saturday night? Or I guess Sunday morning, but you take my point. I won't be able to come down, but I'll be at my window. You'll understand at the time. I don't think there's anyone else I can turn to at this point. But your efforts to contact me is something that lets me know that you're the person to ask._

 _Bridgette_

Geoff received the letter on Saturday morning. He wasn't sure what to do for the moment, so he decided to visit a more worldly-wise friend. Okay, so he hadn't known where Mal was at the time, but word had gotten around about the showdown, so he'd been able to find Bakery of Savouries easily, and just taken the side steps up, where a red and white barber pole was set up. The sign on the door stated that the place was _Open,_ so Geoff opened the door.

Mal turned at the sound of the door opening, looking apprehensive. His face relaxed when he saw who it was. "What a pleasant surprise." he said, although he didn't smile. "What's the occasion? Heard about my business?" He eyed the cowboy hat concealing Geoff's hair from view. He'd only seen Geoff take his hat off once, but he knew he could have styled it to look five times better than it did.

Geoff smiled. "Yeah, I heard about it. Congratulations for winning that contest, by the way. I heard all about it. But I was actually here because I wanted to ask advice. I've recently met this girl – I think she's an adopted daughter of Judge Burromuerto...I don't know if you know who he is, but-"

"I know." Mal said simply, but now that Geoff had said that, he let the young man continue. Scarlett had told him that the judge had taken in his daughter after Zoey committed suicide. And Mal knew that Geoff had to be talking about Bridgette.

"Well, anyway, she's sent me a desperate message, saying she wants me to stand below her window at 3am, but not why. She stated she won't be able to come down. She sounds desperate. I'm not sure if I should do it..." Geoff trailed off.

Mal had no doubt what Geoff should do. If he played his cards right, the young man who'd saved his life might hold the key to get him his daughter back. "If she's so desperate, I would listen to her." he said. "If she can't come down, there's nothing she can do to you."

And that's why, several hours later, Geoff was standing in the dark outside the house he'd been warned against.

Slowly, Bridgette's window slid open,and her blonde head looked out. She saw Geoff after a second, and smiled just enough so he would be able to see it in the darkness. Then, she dropped a small parcel down, and closed the window again.

Geoff managed to catch the parcel, although it was so light the wind could have blown it anywhere. Thank goodness it was a clear night!

He opened the parcel the minute he got home. It wasn't much – just a key, but a letter came with it. Not just any letter, but one that held vital information.

 _Dear Geoff,_

 _I wasn't sure if you'd come, so if you got this, thank you so much. I'm taking a risk to give this to you, but I need your help. Enclosed is a key to my house. On Monday, I'll be alone in the house from 9am to 10pm. Any time between then, let yourself in, and come straight up to my room. It's on the landing, first door on the left from the stairs. I'll tell you everything then._

 _Thanks for this. I know I'm asking a lot, but I'm afraid, and I can't save myself alone._

 _Bridgette._

 **Those of you who've only seen the movie will not know of the duet Anthony and Johanna sing in the first act. But their romance isn't the same without "Kiss Me!" So, I have to have them meet up properly.**

 **Also, I don't know if anyone in this category has read Annie Dalton's series "Mel Beeby Agent Angel". If you have, though, could you please have a look at my fanfic on there "My Angel Girl"? It would be much appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 5: Kiss Me, Help Me

**All right. Before we have to get back to all the blood and gore (or should I say the "meat"), let's keep going with the sweetness with the golden-hearted golden-haired couple. Thanks for reviewing, Bloodylilcorpse, QueenOfChocolateWinx, yeezynight 14 and RandomStranger (I've done Beauty and the Beast – it's called "Type A and the Lord", and I haven't seen the other two. As a matter of fact, I want to do Gwent – just can't find the right scenario for them. I suppose I could've had it here, but I needed a blonde to play Johanna).**

From the minute Bridgette knew she was alone, she sat at her window, humming and looking out for the man she'd seen twice before. It was only lucky for her that Geoff was completely head-over-flat-heels for her, because he appeared less than half an hour after she was left alone in the house.

At least, Geoff had the sense to glance up at her window. Bridgette nodded, as if to let him know the house was safe to enter, and two minutes later, Bridgette heard the sound of heavy footfalls running up the stairs and her door was opened.

Geoff grinned at the girl he'd been writing to. "Hey, Bridgette. So...what's up?"

Bridgette managed another smile, though she felt a little awkward. "Hi, Geoff. It's nice to actually be able to talk to you...you know, in person. I'm not allowed out much, so I don't meet many people out of school...although if my future is really written in stone, I guess I'll get to go to college."

Bridgette's expression became miserable, and Geoff's heart instantly went out to her. "So...is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"It was." Bridgette admitted. "You know how my guardian is a Supreme judge? That means he's pretty much above the law in this town. He's always been good to me, up to now, I guess...but I know that too many innocent people are punished harshly at his hand. And now..." She blushed, embarrassed to say it. "He wants to be _married_ to me! I tried saying I was too young to think of marrying, and that I saw him as a parent and couldn't see him as a partner, but it didn't change anything. He worded it in such a way that I knew I couldn't argue any further. But if he has his way, my fate will be sealed in a month. I'm really scared, and...well, you're the only one that can help me."

Geoff had listened to this string of sentences, his expression growing more and more concerned, clearly seeing how much this distressed the fair-haired girl. Instinctively, he reached out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Bridgette glanced up at him, and the fear on her face began to lessen slightly.

"I'll do what I can." Geoff told her softly. "How can I help?"

There was a long pause as the two blondes looked each other in the eyes, blue locked onto green. There was a moment as electricity crackled between them. Both could feel the sexual tension, but they both waited for the other to make the first move.

Finally, it was Bridgette who spoke first. "I can tell that you care about me. I mean, you barely knew me when you wrote the letter, and you knew that I was asking you to take a risk to come here today. Is there another way you could show that?"

Geoff looked blank. "What do you mean?"

Bridgette couldn't help a tiny chuckle at his ignorance. "I mean, do you actually like me?"

Geoff blinked, but nodded. He spoke in a rush. "I know this is the first time we've spoken, but I can tell that you're sweet and caring and really down-to-earth. And well...you're also superhot...I mean, you're so pretty and..." he trailed off, feeling stupid.

Bridgette giggled. "Thanks." she said. "You're pretty cute yourself."

And that was the moment the electricity began again. Both sailor and foundling closed their eyes, leaning in. The moment their lips met, they were clinging to each other with a passion neither of them had ever known before. The rest of the world melted away, as their fragile connection they'd made through the letter strengthened. Something about their attraction towards each other made them feel even more emotionally into each other.

It took a while for either of them to break away. Finally, Geoff was the one who spoke, as an idea suddenly hit him. "Why don't you just leave here? You could easily run away."

Bridgette's eyes widened. "I should have thought of that." she whispered. "I had that key the whole time, and I never thought...but where would I go? I don't have any qualifications, not yet. If I had full reign of my plans, I'd take a gap year travelling with the money I've saved and then go to college and study nursing. It's what I want to do. And I've always wanted to see the world – I've only been to the beach a handful of times when I was younger, but every time I was there, I couldn't take my eyes off the surfers, and I wanted to be one of them. But I need to apply to college before that, and if I run, I need to be somewhere where it's not easy to find me. I don't really know of any colleges far away to apply to yet."

Geoff's sky-blue eyes lit up. "I don't think I mentioned this in the letters, but travelling is bascially my job. I've spent most of my adult life sailing around the world. Maybe...if you think it's a good idea to run..."  
Bridgette's expression looked as if she'd just been given a lamp with a genie in it. "Really? I can come with you?" She threw her arms around the young sailor. "When can we leave?"

Geoff paused, thinking. "Well...I might need about a week to get things in order..." he said. "Write me in a few days to let me know where to meet and if you can get out-"

He was cut off when Bridgette shook her head. "My room's locked from the outside." she explained. "Didn't you see the latch? You better keep the key I gave you, so you can get back in. I'll let you know a safe time." She looked at the time. "It's not even ten-thirty. Can you stay any longer?"

Geoff kissed her again. "If you want me to stay, I will. I'd like to learn more about you, Bridge. What do you want me to know that you couldn't tell me in your letters?"

Bridgette felt a surge of affection when he shortened her name. No one had ever done that before, and it expressed how close they felt to each other already. She began to talk about random things, her head spinning. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. Her Prince Charming had come along to save her from the evil guardian.

And she couldn't be more exhilarated.

 **Short chapter, I know, but the romance is always a bit underdeveloped in the musical, so it's a bit underdeveloped here too. We'll be back to Mal next chapter, promise!**


	7. Chapter 6: My Friends' First Victim

**Okay. Be forewarned – the horror begins in this chapter! Thanks for reviewing, yeezynight14, Bloodylilcorpse, Lonestarr (thanks...I started writing Hercules with Leharold, though).**

"Why hasn't he come yet?"

Four days had passed since the contest, and Mal was pacing downstairs. Scott had promised to pay a visit to the establishment, and he still hadn't put in an appearance.

Scarlett was leaning on the counter, looking amused. "Give it some time." she said. "You've had several customers already, and didn't all of them tip you well?"

Mal's visible eye lit up slightly. "True." he said. "But I can't be happy until I get my revenge on the judge and his sneaky sidekick. And I might as well get the latter out of the way first."

"Patience." Scarlett said, her tone deadpan. "It's a virtue. One maybe you should possess."

Mal turned to face her. "Fifteen years." he said in the same tone. "That's how long I've waited. Screw patience for longer than that."

Scarlett raised her eyebrows, but didn't have time to finish, as two people entered at that moment.

"Hey, what's up?" It was Chris McLean himself, with his tiny assistant tagging along.

Mal managed to smile at him. "Hello. How are things going?"

"Oh, wonderfully!" Chris said in a bright friendly tone. "Anyway, speaking of, I was wondering if we could talk." He glanced at Scarlett and his assistant, clearly indicating that he wanted it to be one-on-one.

Mal saw the glance, and shrugged. "Why not? My establishment is actually up the outside stairs. Follow me."

Chris did so. The younger boy stood up to follow him, but Chris turned and said harshly "Stay here until I'm done, Cameron. And stop looking like you think you'll be beaten!"

As the two men left, the amused smirk returned to Scarlett's face. "Nice way to talk to an apprentice." she said openly.

"Well, it's the best I could get, with my past." Cameron said shyly. "Chris isn't a nice person, but he doesn't treat me like I have the plague. I was isolated in a bubble when I was younger, so I wasn't very experienced, but he took me on anyway."

"And I suppose it works that you've got hair like the King of Pop?" Scarlett said, her tone serious, but her eyes teasing.

"Oh, it's not real." Cameron said, taking off the curly wig to reveal his real hair, thick and dark, but straight and much less attractive. "To be honest, I'd rather be doing something more productive. Like going to college." Scarlett looked surprised, and Cameron quickly explained "I know I look young for my age. I'm actually fifteen, but I passed my exams a few years early, so I could go. At least, if I had the money. But my family can't afford it, and only Chris would take me on to work, and all he does is support me – I don't get paid."

While Scarlett talked with Cameron, she found herself surprisingly enjoying the conversation. She soon discovered that Cameron was very intelligent – in fact, possibly the most intelligent person she knew besides herself. She couldn't help liking the teenager.

Meanwhile, not so pleasant happenings were occuring up in Mal's little shop.

"Nice place." Chris said, not really meaning it. "Guess you didn't have time to clear up before I came in, huh?"

"I don't have a million members of staff or a lackey to boss around." Mal said, his snark betrayed by his smile. "So what business do you have with me?"

"Oh, well, with you, I don't know." shrugged Chris. "I was just thinking, you look so much like someone I used to know..." he paused, before he said the name. " _Mike."_

Mal froze for a second when he heard his old name, and Chris caught it. "Didn't recognize me, did you? I was just starting out – helping out at the salon for a little cheddar when you were still in town. But after that contest, I thought it must be you. Your voice is different, but when I was sweeping up hair at the salon, I saw the way you cut and styled hair. No one else could do it the way you did. And, well...it would be a pity if someone went to the law and said they'd found the exiled hair expert in town, wouldn't it?"

Mal's voice was deeper than usual when he spoke again. "What is it you want?"

"Oh, just a good percentage of your earnings." Chris said lazily. "Say, half of each day during the week? Three quarters on weekends?"

The smug attitude of the man enraged Mal. He couldn't think properly. His temper was at boiling point, and at that moment, his fist drew back and Chris had a black eye. Make that two.

The blows to the head dazed the man enough for Mal to finish what he began. He wasn't sure what was happening, but his hand reached for a razor, it went to Chris' throat, and suddenly, a curtain of blood covered the man's neck and he began coughing weakly.

"You..." he began, but he never got to finish. The dark eyes went blank, and Chris McLean was gone.

At that moment, Mal's mobile phone rang. He picked up. "Hello?"

"Are you done with Chris?" It was Scarlett. "Cameron wants to come up there. Is that all right?"  
Mal looked around wildly. He didn't feel one bit guilty for killing Chris, but he did feel a little worried. "Keep him down there!" he ordered. "Any means necessary. You have whisky and gin down there, don't you? Offer it to him or something."

"But...but..." Scarlett protested. "I could get closed down for selling alcohol to a fifteen-year-old!"

"You're not selling it, you're giving it to him. On the house." Mal said impatiently. "No one's going to find out that you gave it to him. Just make sure he's occupied, then come up here and I'll explain what happened." He hung up.

Scarlett, back in the bakery, shrugged and obeyed his orders. Within ten minutes, it had done its job. Cameron was so tiny, and had never drank a drop of alcohol in his life. So after only about three glasses worth, he was almost slumped over the table he was sitting at, so quiet that if it wasn't for the movement that showed his breathing, he would have appeared as dead as his employer.

Scarlett closed the bakery and joined Mal up in the shop, but stopped in the doorway when she saw the corpse. "What happened up here?" she asked in a whisper.

"He tried to scam me." Mal said, his face deadpan. "I couldn't stop myself from attacking him, and I'm not sorry I did it."

"What about Cameron?" Scarlett pointed out. "He's unconscious right now, but he's going to wake up sometime, and he's going to wonder what happened to Chris."

Mal shrugged. "Maybe we could tell him Chris had a heart attack or something? Or just kill him too-"

"I think the heart attack story is a better idea." Scarlett interrupted. "I might need some help in the shop, anyway. Maybe he'll think of a better way to draw in customers. He seems very intelligent, though naive in very many social aspects of life."

"Whatever." Mal shrugged. "We just have to make sure he doesn't go running to the cops."

At that moment, they heard footsteps on the stairs, and both froze. Scarlett's eyes fell on the large chest in the corner.

"Would he fit?" she asked in a whisper. Mal nodded and she opened the chest so that Mal could stuff Chris in there. While he pushed the corpse in, Scarlett found a rag to clean up at least some of the blood, and both finished just as the door was opened, and a smooth voice rang out.

"Excuse me, I'd like to make an appointment."

Mal recognized the speaker immediately, and he had to fight not to slip back into a mindless rage.

 **Who wanted the hair appointment? Well, if you've seen the show, you'll know who it is. Hope you liked this chapter!**


	8. Chapter 7: A Little Pageant Queen

**All right, let's keep going. Thanks for reviewing, What'dIMiss, Bloodylilcorpse and yeezynight14. And Lonestarr, thanks for the suggestion, but I have never seen anything related to Superman at all.**

Mal's new customer was none other than Alejandro himself, the same judge that had exiled the young man to the other side of the world for nothing. And now, he was in the makeshift salon, asking for an appointment. This kind of opportunity was too good to miss.

Mal neutralized his face carefully. He couldn't let any sign of recognition show. "When would you like to schedule it? Since I'm quite new in town, most of my customers have just come in and have it all done immediately, since I'm not booked up yet."

Alejandro paused, thinking about it, and then replied "Well, I don't require anything too time-consuming." He gave his instructions for what he wanted, and asked "How long should that take?"

Mal cast his eyes over Alejandro's current hair. It was fairly long and slightly shaggy. He just wanted it trimmed so it didn't quite reach his shoulders, which it was brushing now. He had also asked to have his soul patch trimmed. The stubble was getting out of control, and, as Mal darkly amused himself in thinking, trimming that would be a good excuse for the razor to 'accidentally' slip and slit his neck. Then, and only then, he could contact Geoff and ask him to bring Bridgette there. He was so close to seeing his daughter, and all the time it would take was...

"No more than half an hour." he told his customer, as Scarlett slipped out the door and back down to her own business.

"If I'm correct, I have two hours before my next hearing." Alejandro calculated. "So I'll accept the immediate appointment."

Mal may not have been the same man he was before the exile, but he still had that same skill of chatting to the customers. He no longer really enjoyed the social part of his job, but that didn't mean he wasn't still good at it.

"Any special occasion?" he asked in a casual voice.

"Well, no," Alejandro answered in the same casual tone, "But it's mainly for my fiancée. She had some reservations about agreeing to marry me. A collegue of mine told me that your services were very much up to standard."

"I hope I will live up to those expectations." Mal said, knowing full well that even if he did (he intended to), his customer wouldn't live long enough to sing his praises to anyone else, much less impress this girl (he didn't dream for a moment that the girl was his daughter, because surely even a judge who was willing to stretch the law to his will wouldn't be interested in a girl he'd raised who was less than half his age).

The demonic man whistled as he assembled his tools. It was a rather onimous tune, called "In the Hall Of The Mountain King". Luckily for him, no one knew that whenever Mal whistled that tune, he was preparing to damage someone, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He kept up a friendly stream of chatter as he worked, anticipating the moment when he would end another life. He took his time, making sure everything was just right.

He probably should have just finished straight away and not bothered with the build-up. Just when he was about to finish, another familiar man burst in, not noticing that Mal had a customer.

"I have amazing news! The girl I was talking about – Bridgette – I've finally spoken to her, and she's going to run away, and I'm going to-"

It was Geoff, who should really have said nothing. Alejandro looked straight up at the man as he mentioned Bridgette's name, and recognized Geoff. Sure, he'd only seen the younger blonde once, but when it came to Bridgette, he remembered things like that.

However, he didn't say anything to show it. Yet. "Thank you. What was your rate again?" he asked Mal.

Then he paid and left. But as he passed Geoff, the blonde heard him muttering "I suppose I'll have to find better security..."

Mal had to hold himself back from attacking, or just yelling at Geoff for ruining his chances. He tried hard to calm himself down, and finally managed to ask in a relatively calm voice "What were you saying?"

"I've spoken to the girl I told you about. Bridgette, her name is – we're planning to leave town together next week. Bridgette said she'd send me a letter about when we're safe to go."

Mal paused, thinking about a way to get to see Bridgette first. And as he thought, a plan developed. If he could get Geoff to bring Bridgette back, he could send a letter to Alejandro about it to lure him back, and finish the job.

"It sounds as if you might have some more trouble after that little outburst." Mal said, with a hint of irritation. Will you have to wait until the ship is ready to leave?"

"Probably." Geoff admitted.

"Well, you'll probably need somewhere to wait it out so he doesn't find her before you can leave." Mal reasoned. "You're welcome to come here."

Geoff grinned. "Thanks, bro. And sorry about bursting in like that – I was just so excited. I'll see you later."

Once Geoff was gone, Mal went downstairs to talk to Scarlett.

"Finally!" she said, looking impatient for once. "I wanted to talk to you about what you plan to do about Chris. I know we've got our story for Cameron -" her eyes fell on the young man, still unconscious in the corner of the bakery. "-but what are we going to do with the body?"

Mal shrugged. "Bury him. Point is, things have changed. There's going to be many more to come, so you're going to have to deal with it. Everyone deserves to die, after all. Look at my last customer – a corrupt lawman! He doesn't deserve to live – or to have my daughter. Especially after what you told me he did to my Zoey. And look at Cameron – he didn't deserve to live out his life in servitude to Chris! He'd be better off dead than suffering. And don't think I deserve to live, either. I'm no better than any of them, and nor are you. I might as well make a start on ending suffering for the pure and ending the cruelty of the corrupt."

Scarlett looked a little bit amused, but her voice was deadpan. "Well, that's a good point. But are you sure you want to bury Chris?" Her green eyes were alight, as if she had an idea.

"What else could I do with him?" Mal asked, curious as he saw the redhead's dancing eyes.

"Well," Scarlett said slyly, "I had another idea. I've complained over and over again about the price of meat, and how all I can serve is fat and pastry. And I was thinking, Chris has a lot of flesh. Not the amount I need for even a few days' worth of customers, I can say that, but if you're planning on ending the lives of more of your clients, than..."

Mal's own eyes lit up. "Are you honestly asking me to hand them over to you? You'll put them in your pies and sausage rolls?" He laughed darkly. "I didn't think you had it in you, but it's a wonderful idea. No one will be able to trace that."

Scarlett couldn't help laughing herself, engaging in a little role play. "Today, sir, we have Pageant Queen on special. But we also have Delinquent, Lawyer, Hipster and Figure Skater."

"I think I'll try the Pageant Queen." Mal said, taking a pretend bite. "Southern, yet refined. A bite to the sweetness. Lovely." He chuckled again.

"But my favourite flavour has to be that of Chef." Scarlett joked. "It has just the right amount of spices to it."

The two of them laughed again. Business was going to be taking off very soon.

 **Couldn't resist putting a few references in with my "A Little Priest" dialogue. And that's the end of the first act, and Scarlett has had her idea! This was the part of the story that always creeped me out. No, wait, it's not the cannibalism – it's the fact that...well, you'll see in the next chapter how everyone reacts!**


	9. Chapter 8: God, Business Is Good!

**Welcome to the start of the second act! And yeah, I make a lot of references to TD characters as customers/corpses. See how many people you know! Thanks for reviewing, What'dIMiss, Bloodylilcorpse, yeezynight14 and the guest reviewer (I had Zoey in mind, tbh).**

Two weeks later, after one mail order and over one hundred casualties, the hairdresser and baker's lives had improved. Mal had ordered a special chair for his clients. His room now had a trapdoor with a chute that went straight down to the kitchen, so each corpse with a newly-slit throat would fly down and land in a basket placed by Scarlett, ready for her to skin and cook.

Cameron bought the story about Chris' heart attack, and even ended up eating one of the pies with his former boss' flesh in it. Scarlett had basically adopted him since. She enjoyed having someone to talk to about intellectual subjects, although she sometimes got annoyed when he knew more than her. Plus, he now got to act as the waiter in the bakery, and Scarlett paid him. Only a little bit, since she couldn't afford too much, but at least she was paying him, and his life was much better. Scarlett had just sent out new flyers for her bakery (and the few that had visited so far had exclaimed at the improved quality of the meat), and her business was steadily improving. Cameron had even suggested designs for the flyers by colour psychology ("Red and orange colours induce hunger," he explained, "but blue and purple suggest poison"), which appeared to have worked. The customer numbers crept up, at first slowly, then quickening. Every day, there was at least one more customer than she'd had the previous day.

Mal didn't discriminate against customers – he didn't care which ones he killed, since they were all good for at least three sausage rolls or two pies. He was careful to ask his clients questions to make sure that no one would miss them, and some escaped his salon unscathed. However, many did not. Once, they really did have Figure Skater on the menu, as two had gone in at the same time, and it turned out the only ones who would miss them would be each other.

Now, today was the day that they were expecting business to really take off. Customer numbers had been increasing day by day, and if Scarlett's estimations were correct, more than one hundred customers (since a lot of them were families) would be in and out during the day.

And she was right. People streamed in from ten minutes after she opened, to two minutes before she closed. Some of them just took away whatever they'd ordered, but those that didn't stayed (and clearly relished their food). Cameron's services as waiter were required more than ever, as there were so many customers that Scarlett had to keep baking new batches of her wares or sell out early. And from the amount of Mal's customers that were in her basket before noon, she'd have another long evening of butchery ahead of her once she closed.

By the time the bakery closed, Cameron looked close to collapsing. "Great day for business." he managed to say. "I couldn't believe how many customers there were! Then again," he grinned weakly, "I couldn't blame them. I've never tasted anything like your baking!"

Scarlett herself hadn't actually taken as much as a bite of her own food. Baking it she didn't mind, but she couldn't stand the idea of actually engaging in cannibalism herself. "It's sweet of you to say that, but I'm sure that my culinary skills will always have room for improvement. It's good that business has taken off so suddenly."

When Cameron finally left to go to the box-room he'd been given as his own room, Mal came down from his flat. "I guessed you'd want my help." he said emotionlessly.

"I do require some help getting everything prepared for tomorrow." Scarlett admitted. "I mean, how many people did you finish off today?"

"About fifteen. It would have been more, but a lot of them had families. One dumb blonde kept babbling about her boyfriend. Maybe it's good I couldn't kill her – she probably would've tasted like plastic Barbie doll. I'm pretty sure half of her was from plastic surgery anyway, and there wasn't too much meat on her."

"So what kind of customers weren't going to be missed?" Scarlett asked in interest as they went to the kitchen. She was genuinely curious about those she baked.

"Oh, you know the type." Mal shrugged. "Mostly women today. There was an Italian-American girl with some meat on her – just make sure none of her hair ends up in whatever you make her into. All she wanted was to have it styled, not cut, and it didn't lose its shape, even when it was washed!"

They found that particular girl in the basket, and Scarlett inspected her. Sure enough, she had a round (and probably tender) booty and round melons, although she was fairly skinny. Her mass of dark wavy hair matched Mal's description.

There were plenty of other good specimens, although most of them were skinnier, like a pretty Asian girl who had wanted hair extensions, and one of the few men, a dorky-looking ginger who'd asked to have his stubble neatened up. But probably the one that would produce the most tender meat turned out to be a plump young girl with long brown braids who'd asked to have her hair restyled without a fringe.

As days continued to pass, Mal started getting more anxious. He hadn't seen Geoff since the day Alejandro had come in, and he was getting worried. He knew Geoff trusted him, so he wouldn't have just up and left with Bridgette and forgot to even say goodbye to him...right? The thought of his daughter constantly weighed on his mind. It was pretty much the only part of his mind that had remained unchanged since he'd been exiled.

Geoff couldn't stop thinking about Bridgette, either. He knew she wasn't living at home anymore. He hadn't dared to write her a letter, but after a second time getting into the house, he found Bridgette's room bare. Everything that had been scattered around her room the first time had gone, from her single bed to her dolphin poster. He hadn't visited Mal since because he felt the first thing he had to do was find out where she was.

Actually, Geoff only found out about a week after Bakery of Savouries had become popular enough for more than one hundred customers each day. In fact, it was just by chance. He heard some people talking.

"Did you hear about Judge Burromeurto's adopted daughter?"

"She's grown unstable, not diagnosed yet, but he says he had to send her to a psych hospital."

"Well, of course, losing her parents so young...she seemed like such a sweet girl, too...he'd done his best to raise her right..."

"I wonder if she's allowed visitors."

In Geoff's periphical vision, he noticed two more people standing around, listening intently to the people talking. One was the dead-eyed woman who had told him who Bridgette was. After a few seconds, she hurried on her way somewhere.

The other woman was younger, only in her late twenties at most, although her face was wise. As the voices faded away, her pale eyes locked onto Geoff. "She's allowed visitors." she said in almost a whisper. "She wants to see you."

Geoff stared at her, not sure how she could know any of it. "How do you know?" he managed to say.

"I'm a nurse at the psychiatric hospital she's been sent to." the young woman said. "She's not unstable. She hasn't been diagnosed because she's all right, but we can't disobey a lawman in this town – Wawanakwa is built on corruption." She smiled weakly. "At least we don't live on an unnatural island – something artificial. That would be worse." She managed to smile at Geoff. "Here, I'll write down the address for you. Then go to your girl. I can help you find a way to discharge her from the hospital."

"But how do you know she wants to see me?" Geoff persisted. "How do you know who I am?"

The young woman gave a wan smile. "I see people's auras. Yours and hers are very similar, and they both have a pink glow to them. Here." She gave him the address. "Come soon."

When Geoff looked up from the address, the woman had disappeared.

 **Yes, we have a reappearance from the prologue. It was probably more pronounced than it was when she just made some predictions and warned Zoey to be careful of who she trusted. But I couldn't resist giving my favourite RI character a little more time.**


	10. Chapter 9: Asylum

**Okay, let's visit Bridgette. Thanks for your reviews, What'dIMiss, Bloodylilcorpse, and yeezynight14.**

Bridgette wasn't sure how much time had passed since she'd been sent to this psychiatric hospital, left undiagnosed and lonelier than ever. Alejandro still visited her at least twice every week, as if he still cared about her happiness. He kept saying that he just wanted her to be safe. He hadn't so much as hinted that he knew about Bridgette wanting to run away with Geoff, but she knew that this action meant that he had at least guessed she was planning to leave.

Bridgette knew that being stuck here was part of the ultimatum she was being offered. It was like being a child again and being sent to the corner to think about what she had been planning. Alejandro, again, hadn't actually said anything, but she knew that if she accepted his offer of marriage whole-heartedly and didn't even attempt resistance, she would be allowed to get out of the hospital and create a life for herself. But although it would offer her more freedom, it would still be on a short leash, and worse, it would be tainted with reverse-Oedipus fear (marrying your daughter rather than your mother, even though they weren't blood-related).

As the young woman lay on her bed, a knock sounded on the door. "Bridgette?" A nurse opened the door. "Lunchtime. Come on."

Bridgette gave a sigh. "Can I please skip it? I don't have an appetite and I would rather be alone."

The nurse looked concerned. "You missed breakfast this morning. Come on, you need to eat something."

Bridgette reluctantly stood up. She really didn't have any appetite, although she knew it was out of misery rather than overfeeding and that she needed to eat more healthily. But her main reason was that she needed solitude to work out her problems. The other patients in the hospital that were allowed in the public cafeteria weren't dangerous and a few of them seemed nice enough, but Bridgette didn't want to talk to them.

Today, she was waved over to a table by resident gossip Sierra, a tall woman in her twenties who knew everything about all the other patients and the staff. She'd been committed after pleading insanity when a young man got a restraining order against her that she'd repeatedly broken. But she was nonviolent when said man wasn't involved, just friendly and enthusiastic.

"I heard a rumour about you!" she giggled today, nudging Bridgette. "I heard one of the nurses saying you're getting a lot of male attention from the outside world."

Bridgette sighed. "I know already."

"No, I mean from people more your age!" Sierra said in her most bubbly voice. "She said that someone had gotten worried because he couldn't contact you, and so she let him know where you were."

Bridgette couldn't help the sudden spark of hope jumping into her, but she ignored it. In a situation like this, hope was dangerous, because dashed hopes might actually give them cause to diagnose her – with major depression.

But two days later, during visiting hours, Bridgette was greeted with a different visitor to her usual one.

She gasped at the face she'd imagined seeing for a while. "Geoff!" She ran to the other blonde and he pulled her into a hug.

"Are you all right?" he whispered into her ear.

"As all right as I can be in here." she said, a note of bitterness in her voice. But she smiled. "I'm glad you came here, though. I'm sorry the plan hasn't worked out. How did you find me?"

Geoff had the sense to tell her the answer quietly. "One of the nurses here seemed to know who I was, and I'd already heard people talking about it. They can try to help me find a reason to discharge you from here. Our plan isn't wrecked. We just have a few more...complications. Are you still up for it?"

Bridgette locked eyes with Geoff, green connected to blue. "If you are, I am." she said softly. "It's what I want." And then they kissed. A few of the other patients who were with their visitors looked up. One of them, a woman with a crazy grin who was about the same age as Bridgette, even whistled, making Bridgette blush and Geoff smile. Her visitor grinned too, and waved at them, chuckling.

Only after everyone had stopped staring at them, Bridgette registered what Geoff had said. "One of the nurses?" she repeated. "What do they look like? I'd like to know who it was, so I can ask him or her about it."

Geoff paused, thinking. "She was small." he finally said. "Long pale hair, pale eyes, pale...everything, I guess. Very soft voice."

Bridgette paused, too, her eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, her brow cleared. "Oh! I think I've seen her, but she isn't usually in my area, so I haven't spoken to her. I think she usually works with the less stable patients. I can't believe she'd know..." She couldn't help a small smile creeping onto her face. "Well, anyway, I definitely owe her. But..." she frowned sadly. "I have to warn you not to visit me again until it's time for me to leave. Alejandro still visits me every few days, but I don't think there's a pattern – he just shows up when he has time. Trust me, you'd probably end up hanged if he knew you knew where I was. I'm allowed letters – just write to keep me in the picture."

Geoff nodded. "All right. I promise I'll write soon." He leaned in. "But before I go..."

Bridgette knew what he was asking, and was all too happy to oblige. They couldn't make out in plain sight, but they could at least kiss, and now, knowing that they might not see each other for a while, they put all their passion into it.

After they said goodbye, Bridgette's spirits were lifted, even if just by a little bit. There was still hope. She might still be out of there soon.

 **Took me a while to think of an outro for this chapter, and it's still pretty short as it is. But at least it's up. Never fear, disciples of the dark side, things aren't going to get better just yet...**


	11. Chapter 10: By The Campus

**All right, we better get back to the bakery. Scarlett's got a lot of...er...work (yes, aka scalping and butchering) to do, but Mal's got a visitor. Thanks for reviewing, yeezynight14 and Bloodylilcorpse.**

The day after Geoff visited Bridgette, he decided to go back to the bakery and ask Mal for advice on when to leave. He'd also need to get back in touch with the nurse, but he didn't know where she was for the moment. However, getting anywhere near the bakery didn't prove easy. On one side of the road, there was actually a group lined up for people who wanted to a taste of the new successful pastry-boxes.

Mal was also really busy. His business was improving bit by bit, although nowhere near as many people came for trims as they did for Scarlett's food. However, if they weren't suitable victims, he suggested they stop by at the bakery below them. Scarlett had been talking about maybe buying some proper meat so people wouldn't realize what she was cooking. She'd already been asked a few times about the kind of meat she was using, which was difficult to answer since she hadn't tried it herself (luckily, Cameron had chipped in with his guess – high-quality pork). Buying real pork to mix would make it that much easier to answer that question, and would give her more to work with.

But strangely enough, Mal didn't have any appointments on a Sunday morning. Geoff visited the Friday before, and Mal had told him brusquely "I'm free Sunday. Can't talk until then." Then again, Geoff had come in just as he was about to make the first cut on a vain young man who was admiring his newly-trimmed hairstyle in the mirror (in fact, the man reminded him too much of Chris), so he was a little annoyed.

But Geoff was oblivious to anything strange and just said "Sorry about that, dude. See you in a couple days, if that's OK."

And sure enough, he came back, and told Mal all about what had been going on. He explained everything about the nurse, the reason Bridgette was locked away, and what he'd have to do to get her out.

Mal, of course, kept his feelings off his face, but he felt the burning hate he already had for Alejandro intensify. How dare he send his daughter to a place full of crazies, just for wanting to make her own decisions!

"Don't wait for the nurse to get her out." he advised finally. "If she gets in touch with you, it's probably a good idea to listen to her, but don't wait for it. Make a plan on when you get her out. Then let me know – then it's just a return to our original plan – stay here until the ship's ready to leave." All the while as he spoke, he'd been thinking about what he'd do. He knew that, logically, if he wanted Bridgette's favour, he couldn't just dispose of Geoff. But he had to find a way to keep them in town. And...

He still had that plan he'd made after his first attempt on Alejandro's life. Once Geoff let him know the time, he'd write a letter or even email Alejandro to let him know that Bridgette would be there, and then convince him to stay long enough to kill him. No doubt Scott would eventually come back too, and once Mal was finished with him...

Well, he couldn't quite stop with his massacre yet. Scarlett was still depending on him. Maybe...once she had enough income to buy proper meat from the butcher, she wouldn't need human flesh...but what would be left for him? To be honest, he was really enjoying it. Those moments of anticipation just before his razor sliced through someone's neck...the adrendaline was magic.

Anyway, Geoff was in luck. Just as he turned the corner from the line of people waiting to get into Scarlett's bakery, he almost bumped right into the mysterious nurse.

She stood there, her hands folded. It was a moment before she spoke. "It would be a good thing if you were not to go back there. There is so much negative energy."

Geoff looked confused. The nurse sighed and cut to what he wanted to know. "It would be a good idea to make the move in five days. I've checked that the judge cannot visit during those hours at the time – he has too many trials to go to, and I can have a fire drill scheduled. If you run while you're both outside, I can cover for you. I'll sign Bridgette out, so you'll be home free after that."

Geoff smiled. "Thanks. Really."

The nurse smiled back, although her eyes showed that it was only for politeness. "It's no problem. I try to help people as much as I can." Her gaze drifted to the corner Geoff had come from. As they parted ways, she watched that corner, as someone else went and joined the line.

"If only they knew what they were buying..." she murmured softly.

But the customers kept streaming in, and the money poured in, too. The day after Geoff had visited, Scarlett was exhausted from keeping things going – serving and cooking by day, scalping and deboning by night. At least Cameron only had his job during the day. So once the lunch rush ended, Scarlett asked Cameron if he could keep the bakery going for the afternoon. "After all," she pointed out, "There shouldn't be too many people coming in, not on a work day."

Cameron nodded eagerly. "You can count on me! To be honest, it's kind of exciting – my first time at the counter!"

Scarlett convinced Mal to take the afternoon off, too, since he had no appointments scheduled and it was becoming clear that Scott wasn't planning on visiting any time soon.

The thing was, there wasn't really much the murderous duo could do without feeling awkward. Finally, Scarlett spoke up. "Have you decided what you'd like to do once you finish your revenge?" she asked cautiously.

"Hm?" Mal looked up. He shrugged. "Not really. The only thing I've thought of besides that is getting my daughter back."

"But once that's over with," Scarlett persisted, "I was thinking about what I'd do once I had the cash. I never got the chance to go to university. Cameron wants to go, too. I was thinking that once I'd saved enough, I would apply somewhere. I know Cameron's saving, too. He would love to go to one. Wouldn't you like to do something other with your life? You're wonderful with hair, but once you have Bridgette back, you won't be able to keep up with customers without her finding out. Unless, of course, you just do what they pay you for."

That thought struck Mal. He couldn't give up that high he got on mutilating his customers. Not yet, anyway.

But he didn't say a word to Scarlett about his true thoughts. Not yet.

For a moment, he wondered if he should tell her. After all, a woman who didn't flinch at baking corpses into her products wouldn't be shocked at that, right? But he didn't want to say anything. He would wait until his revenge was over.

 **Scarlett's thoughts were basically this fic's version of "By The Sea". Scarlett is not in love with Mal the way the original character was. However, I made a callback here to what she said she was going to do with the money in her audition tape. While she may have been lying, I think it's a reasonable goal for what Scarlett is supposed to be. I mean, her power-hungry evil side isn't the only character she's got, right?**


End file.
